


Divine Punishment

by Mx_Maxie



Category: Original Work
Genre: Breathplay, F/M, Gentle female domination, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Spanking, fem domme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25586869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mx_Maxie/pseuds/Mx_Maxie
Summary: Over her lap and in her sights is exactly where he wants to be. There and nowhere else.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 23





	Divine Punishment

“I don’t hear you counting,” she purrs, a sugar-sweet voice dripping with condescension, oh she wears it so well. Plays at being so caring while she fists his hair, drags his head back and his back arched into a perfect bow for her. Leaning down to whisper in his ear, “Do we have to start again?” and laughing when he whimpers.

He tries to find the words again, the scattered words lost somewhere in the dark, slipping through his trembling fingers. But he can’t. He never can. His head’s too fogged over hazy, too lazy-dazy-spacey, because everything is so good and everything is so much, but it’s not enough? How is it not enough? He doesn’t know.

“I suppose we do,” she sighs, world-weary and put-upon, but he feels her smile against his jaw, wicked sharp and wicked sweet. She loves when he can’t answer, when his words run away and all that’s left are these desperate little whimpers. These mewls and moans that tell her he’s so close. So close, so close, almost there, but not yet. Not...yet.

She hasn’t...hasn’t given permission, and he can’t cum without permission. That’s part--it’s a rule. And he follows the rules. He’s good. He follows the rules. 

So he can’t cum, even though her petting hand is cupping his balls, squeezing j- _ ust _ perfect. He closes his eyes and bites his lip and breathes through his nose. Can’t cum, can’t cum, can’t cum. Even though his cock is hard, so-so hard, and leaking all over her thigh, smearing her pretty stockings. The sensation of it, sensitive cock against rasping nylon, it stutters and trips in his chest, makes it so h-ard to…

“One!” he shouts. Or is it a whisper? Did he even say it? He doesn’t know, the feeling of her palm, smacking his ass, cracking him out of his daze. It’s echoing in his head and echoing in his head. 

“One, one, one, one,” he mumbles, repeating it for her, because he can count! He really, truly can, and he’ll p-prove it.

“Two,” he sighs, relaxing back into that touch. The pain is so--it takes him out of his head, away from his head, and ties him down here and now. To the thigh he’s humping and the words he’s spitting. Three. Four. Five.

_ Crack! Crack! Crack! _

Hard across his ass, enough to push him forward, to drag his cock along her thigh again-again-again. His lip’s bleeding, copper in his mouth. He’s biting so hard, toes curling too. Because he’s not gonna cum, nuh-uh, not till she says those words. Those pretty sweet, bittersweet words that he  _ needs _ . 

“Sssix,” slurs out of his mouth, drools down his chin like the spit and blood, like the precum making such a mess. Ohh.

“Aww, is my darling tired already? But we’re barely halfway there, poor pet, and his cock’s so hard, and making such a mess,” she coos, leaning back and pulling him up again. Back-up for a kiss, in her lap a kiss. One that’s so messy and barely a kiss at all.

She licks the blood from his lips, copper from his tongue, and swallows down every desperate little noise he makes. He lets her, lets her, lets her do whatever she wants, because that’s what  _ he  _ wants. Whatever she wants. If she wants to edge him past tears, then he wants that. If she wants to fuck his mouth with her tongue, then he drops his jaw and moans for her.

He loves it, he loves her. Her touch in his hair, sharp to sweet, petting through the sweat clumped strands. Her touch on his ass, from cracking to calm, smoothing over the blaring red of his burning skin. 

“Colour, lovely,” she murmurs against his lips, looking at him through fluttering lashes, with half-drunk eyes. He gets caught up in those eyes, he can feel them, their gaze heavy on his naked skin, raking over every flushed inch.

They blink and he gasps, ragged and sharp, question processing through his stuffed up head.

“Green,” he says, yes, yes, green. He’s here, he’s ready to take whatever she gives him. He wants it, whatever she wants, and he can take for a while still.

“Green, you’re sure?” she asks, hand already slipping up-up, from his ass to his chest, knuckles brushing his twitching-hard cock. She doesn’t stop, even though he whimpers, she keeps going until her palm is against his throat. Until her fingers are curling on either side of his throat, cupped and locked there, like his throat was made to fit perfectly in her hand.

He nods, yes, yes, he’s sure. And he swallows when that nod pushes up against his Adam’s apple. Just a little bit of pressure, but he’s already dizzy, licking his lips in anticipation, shivering with want-want-want, he wants this  **_please_ ** . 

She says something, he sees her lips move and feels her breath against his cheek, but he doesn’t hear the words. What words? No words. And no thoughts. Nothing but her hand squeezing his throat, tight-tighter, on either side, digging in and cutting off. He breathes out, just one long, shushing breath, and his eyes roll back.

Back and up. He can’t see her, can’t see anything, he can only feel that slow-buzzing ache that builds in his chest and creeps its way up. Up-up. He drags a shallow breath, not even half what he needs, and it’s  _ heavenly _ . 

Divine, lovely, Godly.

He rocks, hips twitching, whole body shuddering, as she releases. As he snatches a breath, and loses it just as quick around a moan. One that rips its way right out of his bones, deep and full.

“Hold for me, sweetheart,” she says, far away and floated off, but he does. He holds for her, whines as she squeezes again.

There’s something buzzing in his brain, fizzing in his blood, he’s ready to burst. He’s right there. But no. Not yet. Hold. He has to hold.

Even though her hand is on his cock, teasing the tip, smearing precum on his belly and along his already wet dick. He bucks, into her hand, and drops down on his stinging bottom. And it’s almost too much. He almost slips. Almost-almost but not quite.

Then, when he’s there, on the perfect plateau of burning-ache in his chest and throbbing-ache in his cock, she says it. Whispers those words right in his ear, and he breaks. 

“Cum for me darling.”

Cumming in her arms, against her belly, and his. Shivering and shaking and maybe moaning. He’s not sure, he can’t hear it over the roar in his ears and the burn in his blood. From finally reaching that edge, from finally being allowed past.

Her hand doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter. The one on his throat stays right there, just there, not squeezing but holding him still. The one on his cock strokes up-down-up, steady as he bucks without rhythm or style, just desperate to get as much as he’s allowed. She keeps going until he’s whimpering from it, all good, so good, until he collapses into her touch and searches for a kiss.

“Good boy, such a good boy,” she croons, against his cheek, against his lips. And gives him his kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Another commission from a fantastic customer who allowed it to be shared. Lots of fun writing this one, as always, and feel free to hit me up for your very own piece of heaven [@MMaximilla](https://twitter.com/MMaximilla)


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